


Aerith Vs. Catcalling and Wolf Whistles

by EffortlesslyUncool



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Aerith is a ruthless savage in defence of Tifa, Derogatory Language, Fight me on that, Gen, Profanity, catcalling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 15:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14572152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffortlesslyUncool/pseuds/EffortlesslyUncool
Summary: Inspired by the idea that Aerith would have no mercy on anyone catcalling Tifa.





	Aerith Vs. Catcalling and Wolf Whistles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lavacherries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavacherries/gifts).



That was an un-mistakeable wolf whistle.

Tifa spun, searching. The three young men laughing together, nudging elbows into each other in the grandstands of the Golden Saucer seemed the likely candidates. Yes, definitely. The stout, blond one was pointing at them indiscreetly. His friend's eyes set firmly in their direction, fidgeting with his skateboard wheels. The third guy with black hair and a baseball cap sat on the bench behind - assumed the alpha stance. Legs strewn apart, hands clasped behind his head. Their ring leader.

He blows a kiss, and pats the empty space beside him. He wants Aerith and Tifa to join them. She clenches her fists and feels her heart rate quicken. Her cheeks feel a little hot under the unwanted attention, and she's getting a little impatient waiting on Cloud to finish the stupid race. He'd better come in first place. She tries to focus on the event.

Aerith seems un-phased by them. The popcorn bag she's clutching is almost empty; she's been absently picking at it since before the race started. Shaking the last of the kernels from the bag, she licks the butter from her fingers as opposed to wiping them on her clothes. No need to unnecessarily soil them, it's hard enough trying to find places to wash their clothing as it is.

Her ears prickle and pick up the men making hushed remarks, she looks over her shoulder and finds them gawping at Aerith.

“Look at her, look-”

“She's got a real pretty mouth.”

 _For fucks sake_ , Tifa hisses internally. They came here to have a good night. Not to endure her stomach sinking, or be put on edge. Not to feel dehumanized. But to have some kind of fun.

Tifa spins again, and flips them off. Both hands. She waits a second, and allows them to bask in the indignant stare she spares for them, before turning back to watch the screen. Cloud and his chocobo are starting to pull away from the pack.

The men are _laughing._

The hair at the nape of her neck is standing on end. _This is so uncomfortable._

She's not really paying any attention to the race now, so she's ever so slightly startled when Aerith jumps up, fists pumping the air and she's hollaring Cloud's name in a series of whooping and cheers, “Get in there, Cloud!”

Aerith pirouettes, squealing unintelligibly, throwing her arms around Tifa's neck and pulling her down into a hug; Tifa grabs her arms and jumps excitably with Aerith anyway – even though she really wasn't following the race and she's acutely aware of their own audience behind them, she fumbles and pretends to have been more interested. “He did it? He did it! Go Cloud Go!”

“Spare a smile, Princess, ya boy won the race!” A gruff voice calls to her.

This time, Aerith hears. Her braid swings around and stings Tifa's arm as it follows Aerith's head. She's pursing her lips; crumpling the popcorn bag and throws for a bulls eye off of his baseball cap. Barret is looking in this direction now, as is Yuffie. Aerith has stopped jumping, and let go of Tifa, she climbs over the bench and approaches the cat callers. Foot set on the seat ahead of her, she folds her arms as her head cocks to the side, “Excuse me, repeat that again?”

Tifa reaches forward, hand on Aerith's shoulder, “Hey. Let's just go.” She really doesn't want to make a scene.

Aerith spins her neck so fast, that Tifa wonders if she'll need treatment for whiplash, “No.” She replies, and she's stern. She's pissed. She looks back at the men, who themselves look a little unsure what to make of her. Ribbons, a staff and a pink dress.

Yuffie stuffs a mouthful of fries into her mouth, the furry chocobos on her headband bobbing above her and looking like a regular at the races – less like part of the pack of homeless gypsies that she calls family now. “Guys. GUYS. Sit down. This gonna be gooood!”

Barret swiveled in place, turning his back and muttering something about saying a prayer for the young men while adjusting his sun glasses.

The black haired youth spoke up, “ Yeah I was asking your girl here if she'd give us a smile.”

Aerith pierced her eyes at them, “I got that. I was hoping I misheard you. Going to let you in on some life advice guys.”

They laughed among each other, “Oh? What's that sweetheart?”

“Don't you dare call Tifa – or any other woman - a princess, again. You assume that she is entitled, or think that she thinks that she is above others. Asking you to shut up is being neither-” Aerith paused, taking a deep breath. Her jaw was clenched, and her knuckles whitened around the Princess Guard. Tifa watched the exchange continue, “It's asking you to respect boundaries and be a decent person. It's just that simple. _Sweetheart._ ”

“We're just appreciating the sights tonight, chill.” The black haired man propped his elbows on his legs, leaning forward.

“I bet you are.”

“Aerith. C'mon. Lets go see Cloud.” Tifa moves to start walking away, choosing flight over fight. _Funny, really. That a three hundred pound hunk of mountain lion seems infinitely less scary than a guy jacked on his own testosterone._

Another snicker and hushed chatter, “Shame it's not the one with the tits busting my balls.”

“Come again?” Aerith reeling and baring her teeth, anchored in place she slammed the staff into the metal stands.

Tifa hasn't seen Aerith like this. They're good friends now. But she hadn't exactly anticipated the demure Aerith Gainsborough to defend her with such furor, so willingly. Few people ever did. Tifa knows her appearance attracts that kind of attention, and she tries desperately to ignore that about herself. If only she could afford the price tag for some of the more functional and durable clothing...

“She's not a piece of steak you fucking jerk-”

“-Just rip his nuts off!” Yuffie yelled over the racing commentary, chugging on a cup of soda larger than her head.

“-What's WRONG with you? I swear, I hope you enter a pussy drought until the three of you learn how to treat women with respect. And you know what Tifa also has? – a generous and loving HEART, which you'd learn of quickly if you'd chosen to search for that first. Eat shit and choke, dickhead.” Aerith spat, stepping off and away the bench - lunging with the staff and scoffing as they flinch their legs away.

She grabs Tifa by the hand and herds her down the stairs; down toward the paddocks.

“You okay?" She asks from behind, over Tifa's shoulder as they're walking down the hall to greet Cloud.

Tifa looks at Aerith, incredulously. “That was...”

“Really rude of them.”

“-No...You. What you said. Amazing.” Tifa said, awed.

“They had it coming.” Aerith smiled, squeezing Tifa's hand, “I know you can take care of them just fine but-”

“-No. Yes. I mean...Thank you.”

Aerith shakes her head, sighing. “They have no idea. And that's really sad.”

“They don't. We're not walking real estate. It sucks.”

“I know it's not easy, but say something next time. Gestures don't mean much to them and staying quiet allows it to keep happening to others.” Aerith fumbles through her jacket for the sack of gil kept in her pocket, and hands Tifa a measure of coins. “Its up to you what you wear but we can ask Cloud for some of his winnings, then we're going to get you some cargo shorts. Then you have a choice. Here.”

The look in her mossy eyes is resolute. Tifa doesn't argue with her about how to spend her money, she'd be wasting her breath. Aerith Gainsborough is a force to be reckoned with.

 


End file.
